


Pulitzer's Princess

by pylades



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pylades/pseuds/pylades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will you stay with me?” she whispered, suddenly feeling very young, tired, and overwhelmed.</p><p>“Ace, you’ll never get rid of me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulitzer's Princess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writetheniteaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetheniteaway/gifts).
  * Inspired by [When the Going Gets Tough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1252522) by [writetheniteaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetheniteaway/pseuds/writetheniteaway). 



Her editor is a - and pardon the rude language - complete ass. How he was ever hired to run a newspaper as well known and respected as the Sun is beyond Katherine’s understanding (except that it is not because, as she has seen repeatedly in this city, it is thanks entirely to nepotism).

He ignores her suggestions and mocks her outright during their meetings.

When she introduced herself to him on his first visit to the paper’s offices, he had ignored her pointed “Plumber” and greeted her as “Mrs. Kelly”.

Still worse, she’d learned from a loyal friend that he had referred to her as Pulitzer’s Princess before a mixed audience.

Her family history wasn’t a secret to most of the Sun’s staff, but it infuriated her that this man who didn’t know her was using it in such a despicable manner. She’d worked her fingers to the bone proving herself over the past five years! She was more than Katherine Pulitzer and, as much as she adored the man she married, much more than Missus Kelly.

She’s on her way out the door, still fuming after another disastrous editorial dressing-down, when her editor barks out her name. Katherine’s caught off guard momentarily because he uses Plumber. He actually uses Plumber! But hope is fleeting because he smiles nastily at her.

“Coffee, Plumber. I take it without sugar.”

When she slams the door behind her (and oh, she slams the door!), it’s with enough force that the glass rattles in the frame. He’ll certainly use that as an example of female hysteria, but she doesn’t care anymore. She just … doesn’t care.

_____________________________________

Four hours later, she does care. She spent most of the day walking angrily through the city, ignoring (or not noticing) the chill in the air or the clouds that presaged rain.

Katherine is embarrassed and angry with herself for that moment of pique. It’s not because her anger was unjustified (oh, it was justified all right), but she regrets that the outburst occurred where it did.

She learned many lessons about journalism and the newspaper business perched on her father’s knee. It was Joe Pulitzer who edited her first story (a scathing indictment on her brother’s tutor’s reluctance to allow Katherine to join in the Greek lessons that he taught) (She was only nine, so the words ‘scathing’ and ‘indictment’ were nowhere to be found …) and it was Joe who purchased her first typewriter and taught Katherine how to refill the machine’s ribbon and scrub the ink from the keys.

However, the lesson that she forgot today was one that her mother was responsible for teaching her. After her father humiliated her in his office, revealing her true name to Jack, Seitz had packed Katherine into a carriage and directed the driver to the Pulitzer’s home. Her nerves strung tight as a wire, her eyes sore from the angry tears shed in the carriage, Katherine sat listlessly in her mother’s day parlor, ignoring the tea set before her.

_Men would try to humiliate her and force her to be what they wanted her to be. If she hoped to succeed, Katherine would have to learn when best to hold her tongue and when to strike. But most importantly, she must never allow them to see her behave in a weak manner._

Her mother’s words had certainly bolstered her and given her the courage to talk to Jack on the rooftop and to march back into her father’s office with Medda and Governor Roosevelt. Katherine was furious with herself for forgetting them now.

She’s even angrier with herself for being so caught up in her rage that she’s blocks away from home when thunder rolls and fat raindrops begin falling from the sky. By the time she reaches their apartment, her linen dress is soaked and so heavy that she’s exhausted from the exertion necessary to drag herself up the steps. When Katherine reaches the third floor, she could cry from happiness, her hands shaking as she reaches across her for her bag -

\- her bag. She was so angry when she left that she’d somehow forgotten the leather bag that held her notebook, her pencils, her key! She slides awkwardly to the floor, head lolling wearily against the wall. It would be hours yet before Jack returned.

_____________________________________

When Katherine wakes up, she experiences a moment of confusion. She remembers falling asleep outside their apartment, but the hard wood and plaster have been replaced by softness and warmth. When she pushes herself up against the pillows and the blankets shift, she realizes that her wet clothes are gone.

“I gotta tell you, Ace, as much as I love taking your clothes off … I prefer for you to be awake when I do it.”

She smiles wearily, feeling the mattress sink as Jack joins her. “I prefer that as well.” He kisses her forehead and starts to draw her into his arms, but Katherine braces a hand on his chest. “Don’t even think about it. I have to get to work.”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, Katherine.” He sounds angry - angrier than he’s been with her in a long time - and Katherine closes her eyes. She doesn’t like to see the disappointment or frustration on her husband’s face, much preferring the dreamy look in his eyes or the smirking curl of his lips. “You scared the hell outta me.”

“Honestly, Jack, I was clearly just a bit tired -”

“- And soaked t’the skin. Thank goodness Davey was with me because I had to have him help me get you inside.”

“I know you were at a loss with my wet dress, but I certainly hope that you didn’t ask for David’s help”, she joked, struggling to make his frown go away. ”We’re friends, but not that close -”

“I ain’t laughing, Katherine!”

“Shh - Jack - I know, I’m sorry.” She reaches for him, stroking his arm gently. “I’m sorry, I truly am. I was in a terrible mood and I ended up in the rain for a bit longer than I should have been. And I forgot my key and fell asleep -”

“You’re exhausted all the time. I know you’re not sleepin’ at night, not like you should.” Her touch seemed to calm him (she knew it did) and Katherine gently moved her hand from arm to shoulder to neck, sliding up to cup his scruffy cheek. Scruff? So she’d slept through the night, then. “You can’t keep doin’ this to yourself, not in your state.”

“Women have been having babies for thousands of years and doing much harder work than I do, Jack, I promise.” She knows that he’s right, that she has to slow down. She’s seen her image in the mirror when she does up her hair in the morning - the dark circles under her eyes aren’t pleasant to view. And she has so many reasons to slow down, to rest. But it’s terrifying, the thought of stopping now.

“Yeah, well, not all women are as stubborn as you are, Plumber.” he grumbled.

“Jack, I need you to understand. I have to work as hard as I can before I have to stop for the baby. My new editor loathes me for some reason and he’d love nothing more than to see me fail -”

“Your new editor’s an idiot. He’s only got his job because of his uncle and you know it. Normally you wouldn’t let that kind of fella bother you.”

“Normally that kind of person doesn’t hold my career in his oafish grasp.”

“You still gotta take care of yourself.” 

His arms tightened around her and Katherine sighed. The sigh itself was a strange mix of contentedness (always, when he held her like this) and frustration. “I have to re-write my story before Mr. Garvey gives it to another reporter and puts me back on the theater review circuit. You know I love visiting Medda and her girls, but if I have to watch another revue, I’ll go mad.”

“Not until you sleep and eat three meals.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Ja -” she started to complain, even as a low rumble sounded deep in her belly. And he smirked - oh, that lazy, ridiculous, smug smirk that she hated and loved so much. “That doesn’t mean anything, you know.”

He just grinned at her, patting the thick blankets covering her treacherous middle. “Sleep. And Davey’s promised that he’ll bring over some of his Ma’s dumplings for you.”

“Will you stay with me?” she whispered, suddenly feeling very young, tired, and overwhelmed.

“Ace, you’ll never get rid of me.”

_____________________________________

It takes a full night’s sleep in her husband’s arms and a belly filled with warm chicken broth and dumplings, but when Katherine slips out of bed, she’s ready to face the world again (or, in this case, the Sun).

She casts a longing glance back at the bed and Jack, but resolves herself to dress and make her way to Garvey’s office. In her determined state, she does not see her husband prop himself up on his elbows, grinning at her as she moves through her morning ablutions.

Her walk to the paper’s offices is brisk and, unlike her previous trek home, the early morning sun warms her. En route to her desk, she stops and requests a cup of coffee. To that coffee, she liberally adds sugar. So much sugar that her teeth ache to think of drinking it.

She can see through his window (alas, unbroken) that Garvey is at his desk, so Katherine lifts her story up from her own station and strides into his office without knocking.

“I do apologize for the delay in returning with your coffee.” She sets it on the table, allowing the brown liquid to slosh over the cup’s sides. “If you actually read my story this time, you’ll see that no changes are necessary. I’ll be the first to acknowledge when I’m wrong, but that isn’t the case at this time. It’s ready for tomorrow’s paper.”

Before he can reply, she strides back out of the office, head high.

Though her back is to him, she can hear the disgusted spluttering sounds that follow his first drink.

It was his own fault for thinking she could make coffee.

Pulitzer’s Princess, indeed.

_____________________________________

BONUS: Jack’s nighttime perspective

The only reason he isn’t pacing the floor is the damned creaky wooden boards. Katherine seems to be sleeping well enough and he doesn’t want to wake her.

She’d given him a helluva fright today, curled up in their hall, soaked t’the bone. Her stylish workin’ clothes were so heavy from water that he’d had to enlist Davey’s assistance carrying her safely inside the apartment.

And when their friend had gone, it had taken him a good hour to remove her garments and bundle her up in bed. The fact that she hadn’t stirred, other than to mumble a few things under her breath (somethin’ about coffee, he didn’t really understand) was evidence to him of how deep her exhaustion truly was. If she didn’t rest, she was gonna make herself sick.

He understood hard work and the passion that she had for her journalism, but this was getting out of control. She was makin’ herself crazy, writing and re-writing, second-guessing herself, all because of some rich kid without any real knowledge of the paper business. Jack had half a mind to resolve her editor’s problem the old fashioned way (the old Delancey brothers way), but he knew Katherine was perfectly capable of fighting her own battles.

Taking care of herself, on the other hand? 

Not so much.

He tucked the covers tighter around her and crawled into bed. They’d discuss this when she woke up.

(Yelling would probably be involved. He should get some rest while he could.)

**Author's Note:**

> When the newsiespromptfest assigned me E's fic, I wanted to scream, jump, dance, etc. because YES YES YES YES I GET TO REMIX FOR MY FRIEND SO EXCITED VERY MUCH SO. I hope this is what you wanted! Also, pretty sure this is the longest thing that I've written so far (says the lazy drabble writer).


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